Little Bird Daryl Dixon x Oc
by MundieORiley On Temp. Hiatus
Summary: The group stops in a lonely subdivision after a long day of travel and Rick sends Darly and Robyne out to scavenge. (Oneshot)


The front door to the old abandoned house creaks open, casting an elongated rectangle of light into the entrance-way corridor. Two figures step cautiously over the threshold, one tall and broad shouldered, the other shorter and slim. The floorboards protest under their feet as they move a few paces into the house, the light flooding into the dim interior stretching their shadows across the ground.

"Watch your step," Daryl says, voice cast low. "Floor's water damaged."

Robyne nods in response as the two stop, looking into the kitchen before them and down the hallway on Robyne's left.

"I'll check down this way." She gestures with a thumb down the dimly lit hallway.

Daryl nods, a piece of shaggy hair falling into his eyes. "Be careful."

Robyne reaches up and brushes the hair away, her fingers lingering for a moment on his cheek roughened with scruff. Daryl leans into her touch, some of the tension in his shoulders fading. Ever since Terminus, they've rarely been truly alone together and private moments like the one they share now have had to be stolen. Surviving, let alone being on the road, and constantly being in close quarters with her group can be tough, but she wouldn't trade the family she's found for the world.

That goes double for Daryl.

Robyne breaks the contact after another moment, glad for the silent communication that is unique to them alone. They don't have to talk to show the other cares. And that's perfect for a man of few words like Daryl.

Robyne winks at him and shoots him a flirty smile, before turning toward the hallway, hearing a scoff she knows is half-hearted.

Weak light filters in through the gaps of a shoddily boarded up window at the end of the hallway, catching the dust moats in the air. It's quiet, no sound Robyne can make out coming from behind the only two doors on the left hand wall. Cautiously, Robyne approaches the first door and listens for any sound. When she hears nothing, she eases the door open.

That's when the small amount of light entering the room illuminates the hunched figure standing in the farthest corner of the room. It turns with a guttural hiss, jaws opening and closing with audible clicks. Robyne takes a step back, drawing the blade from her belt with a quiet curse as the walker takes lurching and uncoordinated steps toward her.

She stops retreating in the center of the hallway and stands her ground. "Come and get some, fugly."

She waits for the rotting and stinking monster to get within range. With blade flipped down, she strikes. The knife sinks into the walker's skull and Robyne yanks. Her weapon exits with a snick, black blood and brain splattering. The walker drops, thudding to the ground.

Robyne exhales as she leans back against the wall, letting the adrenaline leave her system as she wipes her blade clean on the dead walker's tattered clothes.

"Robyne?"

She turns at the sound of her name, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand reflexively, smearing the gore. "I'm alright. Just a walker."

"Good." There's hint of concern in his still lowered voice. "... Found supplies. Gimme your pack."

Robyne rounds the corner and stops under the archway, eyes widening at the decently sized pile of canned food, water bottles and even baby food on the kitchen island. "Daryl, this is great. Where'd you find all this?"

"C'mere," he says as he motions at her with a flick of his wrist. "Under a loose floorboard in the living room."

Robyne obeys as she slips off her pack and sets it on the counter. The two get to stuffing all the cans and bottles in as efficiently as possible. It's felt like an eternity since they've found remotely enough to feed everyone and Robyne can't help but smile to herself. If they're careful, this stuff will hold them over for a few weeks. Robyne doesn't let her mind wander any farther forward into the future than that.

"You look happy," Daryl says, catching her eye.

Robyne's smile widens. "It just feels good to finally get a win, y'know?" She turns and takes a couple eager steps toward the front door. "C'mon. Let's get back to the group. They can use the good news."

"Robyne, your bag."

She turns back around with a small self deprecating chuckle and starts back toward Daryl. "Oh, right, thanks."

The floorboards give a long drawn out creak and, between one breath and the next, the ground disappears from under her feet, the crack of the floor giving way echoing in her ears. The feeling of falling sucks the air from her lungs and constricts her voice.

Then, she lands hard, flat on her back, the debris that fell with her crashing against the cement floor.

Robyne coughs as she struggles to catch her breath, letting out a groan as pain blossoms prominently in her lower body and head. She feels warm blood seeping from a stinging cut above her left eye and trailing down her face. She forces her eyes open and blinks rapidly and when she tries to move her lower limbs, she notices the uncomfortable press of weight on her legs and hips. A large pile of wood debris from the collapsed floor is the culprit.

"Hold on," she hears Daryl call from the floor above. "I'm coming down!"

Robyne forces herself up onto her elbows, biting back a yelp. She looks to her left and notices a long chunk of floor still mostly attached to the ceiling. It creates a precarious but passable inclined plane to the ground floor above. She spots Daryl slipping carefully down the piece of floor.

Just then, a familiar groan splits the relative quiet, followed by another, then another. Robyne's head jerks around, spotting a dusty glass door across the room from her. An innumerable amount of walkers are pressed against the glass, growling and clawing and pounding on the surface.

"Daryl, don't!" Robyne's voice is hoarse, but she's sure she was loud enough for him to hear.

But he's already down the chunk of floor and rushing to her side.

Daryl drops to his knees beside her and Robyne notices his crossbow is absent from his back. He begins yanking pieces of debris off the pile and tossing them aside. "Gotta get you outta here."

"That door's not gonna hold," she says as she watches him clear away debris. Pain in her legs from the shifting wood causes her to wince and the sound of the walkers desperate to reach them permeating the air. "You're gonna have to leave me. There's no way-"

" _Like hell_!" His voice cracks on the exclamation and his jaw locks. "I cleared what I can. Gonna have to pull you out."

Robyne manages to get a hold of his wrist, momentarily stopping him. "Even if you could get me out, then what? Ten to one I've got a piece of wood sticking out of me!" She squeezes his wrist and makes eye contact with him. She can see the fear, under his anger. But she has to convince him, or she'll drag him down with her. "I won't be able to run or climb. Leave me and get yourself and those supplies back to the group."

He pries her fingers off him and moves behind her, the sound of the walkers persisting.

Daryl wraps his arms around her, locking his hands together. "We're getting out of this damn basement together. End of story."

"But-"

"I'm pullin' on three." Robyne feels Daryl's grip on her tighten. She knows him well enough to realize there's no convincing him to leave her. If their roles were reversed, she'd never leave him there either.

"One. Two. Three!"

Daryl heaves with all his strength, slowing pulling Robyne out from under the pile. She feels something press against a wound and pain shoots up her body, causing her to cry out. She squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, waiting for the pain to stop. And with one last burst of energy, Daryl frees Robyne from the debris pile, half dragging her to her feet from the suddenness of the release. If he didn't have his arms around her, she surely would have collapsed thanks to the bolt of white hot agony originating from her left leg.

There's a jagged piece of wood embedded above her knee, blood drizzling from the edges. The sight of it causes Robyne's stomach to drop.

The pounding and growling increases in volume, the scent of Robyne's blood sending the walkers into a frenzy, and to her horror, the glass door begins to crack. Daryl half carries half drags Robyne over to the piece of floor and adjusts his grip on Robyne. His arms are looped under hers and around her torso, much like how he pulled her out from under the pile. They then begin their painful ascent, backwards up the broken floor, Daryl adjusting his grip on her every few seconds to aid their way up. Robyne does the best she can to be more help than a hindrance, but any movement she makes with her injured leg results in sharp pangs of pain.

By the time they're about a quarter of the way up, the glass door gives way with an ear piercing shatter and the walkers come spilling through.

The first monster falls over in its clumsy attempt to get through the threshold and impales itself on the large jagged remains of glass left in the door-frame. It claws at the ground, pulling itself forward and tearing itself slowly in half, blocking the way out for the other walkers. With a disgusting tearing sound, the walker's body from the waist down separates from the rest of it and it begins to drag itself across the cement floor. Black blood and guts spill out from the gaping hole in its body, creating a trail as it drags itself up onto the bottom of the piece of floor Robyne and Daryl are struggling up. Robyne redoubles her efforts in their ascent, forcing herself to ignore the pain it causes her. The other five or so walkers stumble with uncoordinated gaits toward them, their growls and hisses coming more ferociously the closer they get.

Just when Robyne and Daryl reach the halfway point, the disemboweled walker gets close enough to wrap its rotting fingers around Robyne's injured leg. She cries out and attempts to shake the thing off her, but its grip on her only tightens. To her horror, it slowly begins to drag her back down.

She twists around as much as she can to look Daryl in the face. "It's going to drag us both down!" An icy calm settles over Robyne she grips Daryl's hands and squeezes them. "You have to _let me go_."

Daryl's face is tight, lips pulled back in a snarl directed at the walker. " _You know I won't_!"

He reaches down, yanking his knife from its holster, and throws the blade with deadly precision. It whistles past Robyne's ear and embeds itself into the head of the walker dripping Robyne. It immediately lets go and slides back down to the cement floor.

Daryl readjusts his grip on Robyne, pulling her even closer to him and begins the ascent again. The other walkers begin to pile up after them and Robyne feels the floor begin to moan and creak under them. Her heart beats faster if possible as the realization that their only way out of the basement may give way under all the new weight. With one final and painful heave, Daryl drags Robyne back onto solid ground. No sooner had her feet cleared the plank did a loud crack permeate the air, followed by a crash.

Then silence follows.

The duo lay back on the ground, Robyne half on top of Daryl as their breaths leave them in short pants. Robyne feels herself shaking, from relief or adrenaline, she doesn't know. They stay there for several moments, catching their breaths and getting their bearings. Slowly, Daryl sits up, his arms going around her waist to keep her upright and also in an embrace. She leans her head back against his shoulder and places a hand over his. Robyne can feel him shaking and she realizes how truly close Daryl just came to losing her forever.

Finally, he pulls away from her and makes sure she can sit up on her own before he collects his discarded crossbow and backpack. He kneels beside her, silently examining her injury. She can see the way his face tightens at the sight of it and Robyne reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze before extending her arms toward him. Daryl nods and takes a steadying breath before lifting her from the ground.

He cradles her against his chest, turns toward the front door, and presses a chaste kiss to her temple. "I gotcha, Little Bird."


End file.
